The Hidden Descendant
by Emedrielle
Summary: I would like to make this into a movieit's a little Lord of the Ringsish in style. The tale of a mysterious beauty on a quest to save her world from the great evil that overshadows it...with the help of some colorful and fascinating characters.
1. Chapter 1

…_It was a dark, foggy night when the body of a young woman was discovered on the outskirts of the forest of Down Bywynne. Her face was now frozen into a mask of hunger and pain, although it appeared to those who observed her that once, the mysterious woman had been a mortal of great beauty to look upon. Those who had found her lifted her gently into their arms, planning to inter her remains on the morn. As they did, however, a shrill cry rose from amid the dark cloths swathing the woman's frail form. _

_Peeling them away, the villagers gasped in awe. Revealed was a child of such extraordinary beauty, she seemed to light up the dim night with her loveliness. Her clear eyes were as green as the leaves upon the summer trees, her hair the hue of their color in autumn. As they moved to take the child, the woman's eyelids fluttered open. She feebly stretched forth her hands to take the child. They gave the babe to her, and she nuzzled it against her breast, cooing words of comfort to the distraught child. _

_As the inhabitants of Down Bywynne stared in awe at the bedraggled woman and the glorious babe, the sound of hoof beats reverberated through the woods. A lone rider emerged from the trees, the black metal of his armor glinting in the pale moonlight. Without a word, the woman fell back in the arms of those who carried her, and seemed to stop breathing. The child also, as if sensing danger, ceased its cries._

_The rider dismounted and walked over to the woman. He was tall, and though his face was shrouded by a night-hued helm, every movement of his body seemed forbidding. Peering at her in the dim lighting, he turned to the tall man who bore her. "Dead?" he questioned in a breathy hiss._

_Something in the malevolent tone of his voice prompted the frightened man to utter a breathless, "Yes!" Satisfied, the mail-clad being remounted his steed and galloped away through the night. The woman awoke from her swoon, and thanked her rescuer with her eyes._

_From that day on, the mysterious woman and her child dwelt in Down Bywynne. As the woman grew older and the child blossomed into the loveliest of creatures that ever drew breath, a shroud of secrecy never left them…_

**hey everyone, this is my first fanfiction. i own all of these characters. this is the first page of a book that i have worked on off and on for a few years. i completed it last year, but every now and then i go back and do some more. i have sent it to several people and gotten very positive reviews--PLEASE tell me what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter One

The Enchanter's Dwelling

It was Alethiel's fault and hers alone. She had been warned, time and again, not to cross the path in front of the old man's house; an imposing hovel comprised of dilapidated wattle-and-daub. The forest surrounding the hut seemed to grow darker and denser around it, as if shrouding its secrets from the naked eye. The structure's ancient inhabitant was rumored to be every bit as forbidding as his dwelling. "He be a strange one, daughter," her mother, Wilonwyn, would sometimes gossip as she set about her tasks of the day. "There are rumors that he was once a great wizard, a magician of sorts. Then, he was cast down by one of greater power than he. Now, he seeks revenge against all for the wrong done against him. Never go near to his hut, or you may be horribly enchanted!"

Alethiel found this hard to believe. He was just a harmless old man, who had no one to look after his welfare. So that was why she carelessly crossed the path in front of his house that fateful summer's eve.

She had just left the Sillion Festival, where the inhabitants of Down Bywynne celebrated the birth of their national hero, Fonn Sillion. 1,000 years before, he had gathered the Quieris peoples together to revolt against the Feigh. The Feigh, descendants of the evil Ferienne Fairies, were always trying to dissolve the Quieris.

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The dispute had started with Ferienne the Night and Quierun-Ieris, called "the Dawn" by her people, so great was her beauty. Ferienne, Queen of the Feigh Fairies, had so trusted in her dark splendor as to seduce the men of the Almerior clan. Tall she was and dark of features, but she possessed an attraction as deadly as the venom of a serpent. Once a man was ensnared by Ferienne, even once his eyes no longer lighted when gazing upon her face, his mind could not forget the power she had once held over him. Once she had seduced a warrior, she would then tell all of the military secrets that he revealed to her listening ears to her husband Sufurion, the Fairy King, who would in turn tell his men so they could defeat the Almeriors. In light of the fleeting power of her attractions, however, the nefarious queen always feared women of greater beauty than she, and used every means that she possessed to dispose of them.

One noble Almerior, however, resisted the power of Ferienne. Her name was Quierun-Ieris, called the Lady of the Afforest by her people, for she had been but a humble forest-dweller before her beauty had made a slave of Gonquin, the king of the Almeriors. During a hunting excursion through Down Bywynne one autumn evening, the king had become separated from his party. He had remembered that an estate belonging to one of the nobility was in this part of the wood, and he had made his way towards it with as much speed as he could force his horse to muster. It was then, as his wearily faltering stallion had stumbled through the underbrush, that the king had first laid eyes upon Quierun-Ieris. He could not see her face at the first, for she was kneeling near the house with her back to him, but he could tell that the body hidden by the lapis-hued robe was one of arresting beauty. As he had watched, he had observed that she had swayed and trembled slightly, as if with fright or sorrow. Gonquin had tethered his fatigued mount and walked quietly up to the maiden, treading softly lest his footsteps startle her and put her to flight.

His foot had been caught by a branch, however, and the pride of the Almerior clan fell heavily to the ground, uttering a less than noble exclamation as his feet flew from under him. The maiden had started up when she heard the noise, and as she turned, Gonquin was finally able to glimpse her face. Loveliness of features accompanied coloring so fair it resembled the polished smoothness of unveined marble, although it was obvious by the look of her face that the damsel had been weeping. Her now-flushed cheeks were surmounted by flashing sea-green eyes, which contrasted with the long, copper-colored tresses that fell far past her slender waist. As the king had lain thus as the maiden's feet, he knew in his heart that he had never before seen so fair a woman, and never again would he.

"Who are you?" she had questioned breathlessly, in a voice like the whispering of a summer wind.

"I shall tell you who I am only after I know your name, My Lady," he had replied, hastily rising to his feet as he spoke.

"I am called Quierun, Milord… and why do you call me a Lady?" she laughed bitterly at this. "I am nothing but a slave in this house."

"Is that why you weep?" The girl had hastily brushed at her face.

"No….well, in a way." She had moved closer to him, and Gonquin had fought a rising urge to take her into his arms and comfort her. "I have been enslaved to lord Druskin since my birth, as was my mother before me. Now that I am grown to womanhood…" she had shuddered violently as she spoke, and a deep flush had overspread the pallor of her countenance. "Now that I am grown to womanhood, he is forcing me to choose between two deaths—either give myself to him in the manner of a slave girl, or be tormented to death in ways so cruel..." the young woman had not been able to finish. Gonquin had burned in fury against the evil noble of his realm, and secretly plotted to have him stripped of his titles and his lands at the first opportunity.

"I think then that I can be of some service to you, Lady. I am Gonquin, king of the Almeriors…" a light like the shining of the dawning sun upon the shores of the sea had shone in the maiden's face.

"Then will you speak for me?"

"I shall do better than that—you shall come away with me!" The girl had been puzzled.

"Away with you?" Gonquin had taken her in his arms then, and his senses had reeled with pleasure at the intoxicating power of her beauty.

"Yes. I shall set you free from servitude, and you shall be my queen!" The young woman had trembled in his arms.

"But I am only a slave, Milord!" The king had released her, and taking one her small hands, kissed it reverently.

"None will ever know. I know that you cannot claim to love me as of yet, for we do not know one another. But I am unwed, much to the dismay of my council, I may add, and you are indeed the fairest of women and would make a queen worthy of the greatest king in Korant."

At that moment, a voice was heard calling the maiden to him—the voice of the lord Druskin. Wordlessly, Quierun beseeched Gonquin for aid with her eyes. As the calling voice grew in fury, the two raced towards the king's steed, mounted quickly, and raced away from the site of the maiden's impending doom, whilst her laugh of triumph rang clearly behind them as the voices of a thousand bells. Quierun's great beauty and humble sweetness of nature made her many fast allies, and it was not long before she was made the beloved queen of the Almeriors. It was on the day of her coronation and their nuptials that Gonquin affixed the surname "Ieris" to her name, which signified "fair as the snows"…for it was glory of the first-fallen snow that the her marbeline beauty had brought to his mind when first he laid eyes upon her countenance.

On the aforementioned occasion, the queen and her husband were celebrating an anniversary of their first meeting by hosting an extravagant hunting party for their clan. Quierun-Ieris never had looked so fair, for clad in summer's green was she, her shining auburn locks as lustrous as the gold of the autumn leaves. A coronet of the purest gold encircled her perfect head; a crown of breathtaking beauty, wrought in the shape of fair beasts that the Almeriors prized for hunting. A gleaming star hung upon her breast by a silver chain, for in those days, the mightiest of the Almeriors would take to themselves a small star from the heavens of Korant by their arts, tame it, and use its power to enhance their own. This unique power the Feigh could not duplicate; thus they contented themselves with murdering their enemies and taking their gems. After the demise of their original owners, however, the stars would dim, then their magical light would completely fade, so the act of murder did not avail the Feigh people in the end. The loathsome fairies would keep the flameless gems only as trophies; tokens of how many of the great Almeriors they had vanquished.

Lady Quierun-Ieris sang as she traveled, her voice floating on the wind, making even the birds pause in their singing to listen. The sound of her song was carried to Ferienne in her castle, for the jealousy of the dark queen enabled her to hear all things fair, in order to discern if they were lovelier than she. The covetous Queen had to know who had such power in her voice. Before, it was only she who sang a song that could still the birds; however, it was in fear, not wonder. She, being fairy-kind, changed herself into a bird and flew towards the bewitching sound.

She stopped when she came to the small traveling group, composed of the king and queen and their attendants. Lady Quierun-Ieris had a veil over her face that fluttered with her breath as she sang. Ferienne was furious that she could not see the songstress. She had some notion that the Almerior underneath the veil was lovelier by far than herself.

Changing herself to a harsh wind, Ferienne blew loose the veil from Quierun-Ieris' face.

She shrieked with rage at what she saw. Never had she seen such perfect, uncontested beauty. With that one fatal glance, she knew that she no longer ruled the world as the loveliest. The evil Ferienne had but one thought in her head: the Lady Quierun-Ieris must die.

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That night, a handsome young man rode into the forest, unaccompanied, and swordless. Gonquin gladly welcomed the young man into their traveling party, and he won the admiration of all who met him with his pleasant demeanor. That night, as the lord of the Wood and his attendants slept, the young man, a lover of the evil Queen Ferienne, carried Quierun-Ieris off to his mistress.

The Queen had been delighted to have Quierun-Ieris in her power, for now she knew she could destroy a beauty greater than herself. She congratulated herself by throwing a large banquet to celebrate the capture of her enemy. Her pride, however, was her undoing.

Everyone went to the banquet; even the jailors of Quierun-Ieris. As the young Almerior lay in her cell, frightened, and nearly in despair, she remembered her gift of song. To lift her spirits, she began to sing in the language of her people.

"_Mulia, morasen nonye_

_Can soven nanya_

_Lu, besno asaris"_

To her great wonder, the chains about her wrists began to melt away! She continued to sing, watching as the chains on her body disappeared.

"_Ulienne Misca lana_

_Cheresana cusneyen"_

At the last verse, the prison wall dissolved, revealing the dark of a starless eve. The power of the Dark Ferienne the Night had no power over Quierun-Ieris, the Light of Dawn. Quierun-Ieris was able to escape, for her purity and goodness defeated Ferienne's evil. Ferienne, furious when she heard the news, vowed vengeance on Quierun-Ieris' family forever.

Although Quierun-Ieris and all who had lived at that time finally perished, Ferienne, and her lord Sufurion, King of the Feigh Fairies, could not die. Fed upon the bread of cruelty and nursed upon the wine of hate, their vile lives stretched for thousands of years. Ferienne's once great beauty withered and perished, and she became filled with murderous rage.

It was then, when the last flame of her beauty flickered and went out, that she cursed Quierun-Ieris and all of her descendants, and bound all of her people with an oath: until her children were routed out and destroyed, her people should have no rest. The Feigh gleefully accepted the oath, for they had no small hate for the fair race. Many were the times of old when the two factions had warred before; and always the Almeriors had vanquished their foes. Now however, the vile fairies reasoned with bitter glee, the Almeriors themselves would be the ones to be prostrate with grief over the loss of their kin.

Ferienne, aided by Sufurion, spent many long hours in planning attacks upon the unsuspecting Almeriors, and training hideous armies in all manners of cruel and unjust warfare. The descendants of Lady Quierun-Ieris learned to fear the open plains of Korant, for the Feigh detested fighting among trees, where their clumsy feet became easily entangled. Therefore, the Almeriors made their dwelling in Down Bywynne, the most beautiful portion of the greatest forest upon the surface of Korant.

The Almeriors renamed their clan after their Lady, bearing her name forever. The Feigh held true to the vow of their Lady, and persecuted the Quieris people. The wars were made bitterer by the fact that both the Feigh and the Quieris spoke the same tongue, being of a common ancient descendant. Intercepting vital messages was made all the more common, and the losses to both sides were monumental.

Then, Fonn Sillion was born, at the time when the need of his people was greater than it had ever been before—when the Feigh were pressing in towards Down Bywynne from all sides. Tall he was, and fair, with a strength of will unmatched by any of that era. When he was but scarce come to manhood, his lover, Miarielle, was slain brutally by a band of marauding Feigh. Without thought for his own safety, Fonn took up the sword of his father and smote down the small group of enemies. With an anger fearsome to behold, he vowed vengeance against the Feigh for the remainder of his days.

With the recklessness that had become his mark, he raised a small but fierce rebel army against the mighty Feigh, and to the wonder of all… defeated them and gained a respite for the Quieris people. Sufurion and Ferienne retreated within their realm, unwilling to sacrifice so many soldiers while yet Fonn lived, for the madness of his wrath was greater even than the magic that the evil king and queen could wield.

But they did not forget, nor did they forgive…



This was what Alethiel and her companions had been celebrating. The birth of Fonn was, to them, a joyous occasion. They had not seen a Feigh for many years now, and their land was at peace. Every year, there was a festival to commemorate his birth.

This year, the maiden had eagerly thrust herself into the dancing and competitions, joyfully celebrating her first year as a mature member of the Quieris people. At seventeen, the young damsel was just entering the wonder and heartache of adulthood.

There was luscious food in abundance all about the Square, which was festooned with glistening loops of silken ribbon and mesmerizing fresh flowers, whose scented sweetness permeated the air of Down Bywynne with a heavy, mind-numbing beauty of aroma. There were young men with strong bodies and handsome faces, and young women fair indeed to behold, garbed in glimmering raiment that shone in the dying sun as brightly as brilliantly hewn jewels.

Yet though the loveliness of each woman was great, not one of them could begin to compare with Alethiel. Her beauty shone more brightly than the brightest of the lanterns, was sweeter and more fair than all of the fresh woodland flowers, and was more seducing to behold than all of the winking stars that slowly blinked their fierce magnificence in the darkening sky.

The girl had been dancing about the square of Down Bywynne, overlooking the slights from invidious maidens and advances from amorous admirers, when her close friend Ferac had sidled up to her. "Do you see that stranger standing near the lanterns, Alethiel?" he had whispered. "He can not take his eyes from you!"

The wench turned and looked at the person in question. He was tall, and swathed in a long black cloak that completely covered his frame. Glittering eyes gazed unflinchingly out at the celebration from beneath the hood that concealed the rest of his face: eyes that spoke of years of pain and sorrow.

Alethiel started towards him, but Ferac held her back. "He is up to no good, I'll warrant," he hissed, "all hidden like that. Look into his eyes, Alethiel; see the malice there!" It was at that moment that the inquisitive gaze of the young maiden met that of the mysterious onlooker. His emerald-hued eyes widened in disbelief as they focused on her fair face, flushed with excitement and the exertion of the celebration. He blinked once, twice, three times, as if not believing that which he beheld-then a look of pain and near madness filled them. He turned away from her, and it seemed to the girl that she could see the body beneath the black cloak writhing in the bitterest of agony. The girl turned once more to Ferac and shook her head.

"I saw no malice, Ferac," she murmured, "only anguish!" The lad shook his head in slight irritation.

"Forget him Alethiel. Come dance with me! The night is young, and it is for such as us!" The wench hearkened to her friend's persuasive words, and followed him into the ring of dancers, striving furtively to erase the memory of the young man and his cheerless eyes.

As she began to dance with Ferac, the maid found herself forgetting all but the pattern her dainty feet were skillfully weaving. All year long, Alethiel longed earnestly for this time of year. Though not from a wealthy family, she was renowned as the most beautiful Quieris since the time of the Ancient Almeriors. It was even whispered by the Old Folk that she surpassed even Quierun-Ieris herself.

Alethiel, however, did not care greatly about her beauty. "All I want is adventure, Mother," she would sigh, resting her chin in her hand. "To go somewhere, to do something great, something that others would remember me by."

"Nonsense," her mother would reply shortly, "you will get married and have many children. That in itself is one of the greatest adventures in life."

Wilonwyn was a slender, graceful woman of petite build, with thick, gray-tinged golden hair falling past her shoulders. Her face was now lined with the many years of toil for herself and for her lone daughter, although her sapphire eyes still shone as brightly as when she had been a young woman. Although she had been beautiful in her own right, those who observed the mother and daughter saw at a glance that the child resembled her mother not at all. While the beauty of Alethiel shone as brightly as a thousand stars, the tired loveliness of her mother appeared in contrast as the waning moon.

Alethiel knew that her mother was right; she should get married. But she had no intention of doing so at the present.



She took the path for no particular reason. It was late after the Festival, and she only wished to use a short cut to get home as soon as she could. She worried after her mother when she was left alone in the cabin. Fierce bandits and outlaws had been known to attack unsuspecting homes at times…especially those close to the forest. The home of Wilonwyn and Alethiel was the farthest from the Great Square, and was hardly discernable through the dense foliage of the woods.

Although the maiden was slightly uneasy regarding passing the house of the mysterious ancient, she forced herself to think of her mother…all alone…in the hut...and of the rumors she had heard regarding a pestilent force moving rapidly through the forest. "They are only ridiculous stories about a pitiable old man," she thought to herself. "No harm can come to me!" So, tossing caution to the wind, she crossed in front of the old man's house.



At first, Alethiel noticed nothing stranger than a dense fog swirling across the path. The maiden looked about her and shuddered slightly, eager to pass by the mysterious dwelling. As she came parallel to the door of the hut, she felt the dancing shoe upon her foot come unlaced. Fearing that it would slip off completely and she would be without it if the need to flee arose; Alethiel stooped to quickly lace her shoe, then stopped. Something was not right. She tried to stand up, but found that she could not. Her feet and wrists were rooted to the ground. She tried to call out for help, but the wind snatched away her words. As she opened her mouth to scream again, a great black shape loomed up in front of her. She fell senseless to the ground.

When Alethiel awoke, she found that she was in a small hut with a thatched roof. Looking around her, she saw that the furnishings were very modest, but clean. She tried to raise herself on her arm, but sank back against the pillows, crying out in pain. It felt as if her arms had been struck until they were black and blue. Looking at them however, she saw that they were perfectly fine. "How can this be?" she murmured.

At that moment, a young man entered the room. The maiden watched him covertly as he approached her, and noticed his giant muscles rippling with every step he took. He appeared to be close to her age, although the look in his dark eyes seemed to add many years to the youth of his face. Alethiel looked down at herself then, and discovered to her dismay that she only wore her linen shift. Clutching the sheet around her, she glared at the man. "Where are my clothes?" she demanded, willing her voice not to sound frightened.

"You will have no need of your old clothes where you are going," he replied. He gently lifted Alethiel from the bed on which she was lying. She was too sore to fight him at all; she could only clutch the bedclothes around her slender frame.

The boy carried her to a different room, and set her on a large bed. "What is this place?" Alethiel asked, marveling. She had thought that they were in the old man's cottage, but this was a different place entirely. The walls changed to every color of the rainbow as she looked around her. The bed on which she sat had a marble base and was covered with silken bedclothes. The room had no windows, yet thought the walls it seemed to her that she could just see the autumn leaves drifting from their stems in the grounds outside. "This room is fit for a queen," she whispered.

"That is why you are in it," the boy replied. Alethiel was startled.

"I am no queen," she told him. "You have the wrong woman. I am Alethiel, daughter of Filliac Fornwyn, a..." For the first time in her life, the maiden felt ashamed of her station. The young man before her certainly looked to be very noble indeed, and she sensed that he was very proud. Casting her gaze upon the floor, she whispered, "I am but a peasant." The wench raised her head slowly, to see the dignified lad's reaction. He grinned. Alethiel's own pride blazed ardently within her, and she gave the lad a look of supreme indifference. The impertinent boy was definitely treading on her patience.

"Whoever you think is your father, just keep that notion to yourself. He will not like it."

"Who is _he_?" asked Alethiel, looking about the room, expecting to see _him_ watching them.

"You will see," the boy replied. He started to walk out of the room, when he turned back to Alethiel and pointed to a dark green garment residing on a chair near the window. "You are to put that on," he said, then before Alethiel could ask any questions, he had disappeared.

She crossed to the window and picked up the garment. At first glance it was dark green, but when it caught the sun, it turned into what looked like pure silver and gold. It had a swooping neckline and pointed bodice which laced up the front with diamond-studded golden threads. "This is much too fine for me," she muttered, slipping it over her head.

The skirt of the gown fell in long soft folds to the ground. Alethiel was self-conscious as she looked into the mirror; she had never worn a gown that bared so much of her skin before. As the turned, she caught sight of a beautiful golden circlet lying on the pillow of the great marble bed. Picking it up, she could see that the metal was woven into delicate shapes of animals, flowers, birds, and other creatures that she had never before seen. Placing it on her head, she turned to look at her reflection in the mirror.

What she saw made her gasp. Though lovely before, she now so surpassed anyone ever formed (though she did not know it), as to leave the fabled beauties of all ages far behind. Her auburn curls streamed down her back like rivulets, catching the sun and gleaming golden. Her fair, white skin shone in contrast with the dark material. Her hair curled winningly across her ivory chest, now throbbing with wonder and… yes, yes it _was_ fear. _Who, _she wondered, _would care enough to do this for me?_

Alethiel heard a gasp behind her, and turned. An old man was standing there, a man so wondrous in appearance that Alethiel could not stop gazing at him. His hair was whiter than the first unblemished snows, and he was tall, taller than the maiden, although it seemed to her that he was slightly stooped with age. His blue robes set off the light kindling within his black-browed sapphire eyes to such a degree, Alethiel had to look away. He seemed to have the wisdom of five thousand years in his stare, the youth of twenty. He seemed to know many secrets, dark and light, good and evil. He was altogether fascinating to her.

"Can you sing child?" he asked her, still not taking his eyes off her face.

"A little," Alethiel admitted, wondering what her ability could have to do with the present circumstances. As she tried desperately to recall any song to her mind, one simple melody seemed to take shape before all the others. It was one that no soul had taught her; she herself had thought of it as she sat gazing upon the distant sunrise one early morning, long ago. Though it seemed simple and juvenile to her now, something within her prompted her to sing it to the old man.

Alethiel sang, at first faltering, then gathering strength.

"When_ the sky burns_

_With the light of the dawn_

_Then there will be peace,_"

She sang in the modern language of her people, her high voice clear as the crystal streams.

"_Terror__ shall cease_

_Night shall reign no more_!"

When she stopped, she ventured to look up at the old man. She had sung the song with her eyes riveted to the ground, picturing horror at her inadequacy on his face. What she saw was quite different.

His azure eyes burned with a sapphire-like flame, their startling hue akin to a bolt of cobalt-colored summer lightning. His mouth was opened; she realized that he was gasping for breath. "Do you know what you just sang?" he asked her. Alethiel shook her head, ashamed. "Your song was in the language of the Quieris," he continued. "Let me sing it for you in the language of the Almeriors, your ancient ancestors."

"But there must be some mistake, Milord," she murmured, somewhat hesitantly. "I myself wrote the song, and composed the melody. I have sung it for none save you before!" The wise man shook his head.

"You believed the song to be of your own making, My Child. What you experienced upon the hillside that morn, as you watched the sun rise above the hill, was not a moment of musical genius…" he paused, and seemed to be waiting for Alethiel to deny him. The wench was amazed. Who was this man, who knew so much about her? When she did not contradict his former statements, the wise one said mysteriously, "It was a transfer of power! From the body of a living flame to the heart of a pure, beautiful young maiden, the song, ancient in origin, flowed into your spirit, albeit in your modern tongue." With wide eyes, Alethiel requested him to fulfill his promise, and sing the melody in the ancient dialect. He began to sing, his deep, ancient voice making the walls resonate with its sound.

"_Mulia, morasen nonye_

_Can soven nanya asaris_

_Ulienne, Misca lana_

_Cheresana cusneyen."_

The song captivated Alethiel. The melody was the same, but the words were so different. They had a power and beauty in them that the modern way of the song lacked. The man was still looking at her.

"What did you think?" he asked.

"It was the loveliest thing that I have ever heard," she admitted.

The man crossed the threshold and approached her. His long robes caught the light and glimmered as he moved. He had a beard long as that of an erudite sage, white as the first unblemished snows. He took her hands in his own. Youth and beauty stood hand in hand with wisdom and age, and their eyes met. The power of the old man's eyes held Alethiel.

"You are she," he said softly, releasing one of Alethiel's hands and stroking her hair. "You are the one for whom I have searched." Alethiel was startled. She tried to pull her hands out of the man's grasp.

"I do not know what you mean, sir," she whispered. "I am only a poor peasant, the daughter of Filliac Fornwyn…" Alethiel had remembered the young man's warning too late. The man dropped her hands. His face grew livid with rage.

"Never, Never, NEVER speak that name in my presence!" he roared. Alethiel shrank back against the bed, suddenly terrified of this old man and his wrath. He strode to the other end of the room and took an object off of the mantel. He held it out to her as he neared her again, and she moved away from him. The man sighed. "Forgive me. I am not angry with _you_. But you must remember never to let me hear you say that name again." When Alethiel did not move, he commanded, "Hold out your hand."

Though frightened, she did as she was told. The old man placed an object into her hand, something that was cool, yet at the same time, surprisingly warm. The girl was aware of a strange, prickling sensation coming over her as it touched her bare skin. She also could perceive the old man moving away from her ever so slightly. She peered at it curiously.

What Alethiel held was a necklace of exquisite beauty. Diamonds and crystals were gently wrought into the silver in the shape of a star. A circle surrounded this star, also studded with the lustrous gems. It was the most beautiful jewel that Alethiel had seen in her life. "What is it?" she asked.

"The star of Luriel-Haranas. The star that was worn by Quierun-Ieris the Bright." The old man replied, gazing at it as well.

"It is perfect," Alethiel breathed, enchanted.

The man smiled at her wonder. "I am glad that you think so," he said. "The necklace belongs to you!"

"For me?" Alethiel asked unbelievingly. "This is far too fine for me," she murmured.

The old man shook his head. "You are she of the superior beauty and talent for whom I have searched. You do not know of it yet, but you are not who you think that you are. You are not Alethiel the peasant maiden!"

Alethiel was stunned. "Then I know not who I am, my lord. Will you tell me?"

The old man smiled and shook his head again. "That you must discover for yourself. In time, my child, you will rise to be who are meant to be, despite those that seek to hinder you."



The old man insisted that Alethiel stay the night in the strange room. She tried to resist, saying that her mother would be greatly worried. A wistful look crossed the man's face, and he murmured, "She will never worry again."

Alethiel wondered what he could mean by this, but he refused to say. He left her, quite alone in the marvelous room.

She looked about her again. As night approached, the room took on a different appearance. The rainbow walls turned silver as shafts of moonlight, and they merged in rays that focused on the marble bed. Alethiel suddenly feared to lie upon it. What was this place truly, a mysterious vault into which she had been lured, only to be destroyed? Or was it a place of goodly beauty, a place where she might feel secure?

As she pondered, the same young man of earlier entered the room again, bearing a tray of steaming food, and a pile of white gauze. When she looked at him strangely, he put the tray on the table, and handed the gauze to her with a flourish. "What are you doing?" she asked him scathingly. He grinned at her.

"After you eat, you are to put this on and go to bed," he replied simply. Alethiel inspected the garment. It was more revealing even then the green gown; she could see her hand through the material.

"I _shall not_ wear this!" she cried out, in a rage. "Are you men here to make sport of me? I will not appear half-naked before you _or _the old man!"

The boy smirked in his irritating way. "We never said you had to. All that he asks is that you put it on." He turned to leave. "Good night." Alethiel caught him by his sleeve.

"Wait!" she implored him. "Who are you? What is your name?" The boy did not smile as he answered her.

"I am called Makairn. I do not know my real name, nor from where I have come." Alethiel looked at him strangely.

"Have you never thought to ask, Makairn?" she queried. The lad's face darkened as he answered her.

"I do not wish to know, Milady. Though I am but the least of the inhabitants of Down Bywynne, I have a premonition that in some other dark, terrible place, I am truly the greatest of the great."

When the boy Makairn saw that Alethiel was thoroughly perplexed, and that she asked him nothing more, he gently pulled her hand from his sleeve and left the room.

Alethiel was puzzled. Who was this strange young man, and why was he here? What troubled her more was the thought, _why does he seem so familiar?_

She approached the tray of food and inhaled the luscious aroma. She had eaten nothing since the Sillion Festival, which now felt like part of a different world. She tasted the rich food. It was some kind of meat that she had never tasted before. The rest of the dishes were equally as exotic and wonderful, and before she knew it, all of the food was gone.

She sighed, feeling comfortable and contented. That was the most that she had ever eaten at one time in her whole life, yet she did not feel completely full. What miraculous place was this, where all the food in the word would not fill you, and all the drink in the world would not completely quench your thirst?

Alethiel stepped out of the wondrous green gown and into the gauzy nightdress. Looking at herself in the full-length mirror, she was surprised to see that her body could not be seen through the sheer fabric of the gown. It too sparkled like all the other garments as it caught the light.

Alethiel approached the bed again cautiously. She put her hand on the bedclothes; they were quite cool. Carefully, she eased herself onto the divan. She was surprised with what rapidity it warmed to her body, and how comfortable it was.



When Alethiel woke the next morning, she was delighted to see that a very simple jerkin of forest green, accompanied by leggings of a slightly darker hue, was draped across the chair. She slipped the jerkin over her head, careful not to tear the fine fabric of the nightdress as she removed it.

Once dressed, she walked to the door, then stopped. Now, here was a problem. She did not know in what chamber she was. It appeared to be richer that the other ones, if the room in which she had first discovered herself was any indicator. The walls were magical; she saw for the first time in the morning light that you could see the world outside through them. The world from this magical chamber was many times more beautiful than the world from her window at home. Alethiel sat down on the bed again and stared out the window.

The trees were waving their blushing autumn finery, their limbs swaying in a beautiful dance, accompanied only by the wind. The birds chirped sweetly, singing in harmony with the glorious nature outside. As Alethiel watched, Makairn, the boy from the night before, walked across the emerald carpeting, now dotted with gold, and approached a tree. Without any warning, he swung himself into its branches with an easy confidence that annoyed Alethiel afresh.

She jumped up from her bed an approached the wall. "Makairn!" she called. He did not stop to look. "Makairn!" she repeated, this time thoroughly vexed. He still did not so much as turn his head.

"He cannot hear you."

Alethiel whirled around at the sound of the voice, and saw the old man standing there. "I do not understand," she murmured. He crossed the room and stood by her side as he spoke.

"To you and to me, this wall is invisible. If I were outside at this moment, I could hear you, and you could see me. To those who are not of the Quieris people, however, such as Makairn, this wall is as stone." The maiden was surprised. Though Makairn did not look like her kin, Alethiel had naturally assumed that he was. The young girl had known no other clans in her life before, having been brought up solely in Down Bywynne. Though she knew that she herself and her mother were both indeed Quieris, her mother had been strangely secretive about the kin of her father, a handsome man whose likeness the older woman wore on a medallion about her neck.

With a start, Alethiel realized who Makairn had reminded her so strongly of the night before. The lad bore an undeniable resemblance to Alethiel's own sire, the great Filliac Fornwyn himself! A great desire to learn of Makairn's true identity filled the girl, and she turned towards the old man beside her.

"Sir," she said breathlessly, "I know full well that you do not wish me to mention my father's name in your presence…" The man's eyes narrowed, and his face darkened. Alethiel clasped her hands, and looked earnestly at the old man before her. "I beg your pardon a thousand times over, Milord, for mentioning the subject once again. However, I noticed the resemblance between Makairn and my father, and I was hoping that perhaps you could tell me of Makairn's true identity!" The old man shook his head.

"That is not for me to say, Alethiel; if Makairn wishes you to know, then he alone shall tell you. Your destiny and his have led you on separate paths thus far, that I know. My foresight is not what it was formerly; yet I seem to see your courses mingling in the future." Alethiel's questions of the day before concerning her true identity came back to haunt her.

"My lord," she said, dropping her eyes to the ground, "You said last evening that I would have to discover who I was for myself. How will I do that?" The man smiled at her eagerness and took her hand.

"Come and eat, and I will tell you!"



At breakfast, Alethiel saw that she had been wrong about the great house. It was no little thatched roof cottage, as it had appeared to be from the outside; it was a Palace of Wonders. The great dining hall was equally as magnificent as the bedroom, but in entirely different ways.

As she sat marveling at the magnificence of the place, Alethiel remembered the old man's promise to tell her how to discover her name. "My lord," she started respectfully, fiddling with the napkin at her place, "My lord, I have no more notion now of how to find out who I truly am then I did last night!" The man smiled. Suddenly, a silken tapestry unfurled itself from the ceiling and dropped nearly to the floor. The girl gasped at the brilliant beauty of the delicate embroidery that covered the piece of art.

As she stared, however, she caught her breath in surprise. The figures on the tapestry were actually moving! She watched in wonder as the gorgeously woven characters danced together around a ribbon-bedecked tree. She saw a cluster of the men figures gather around a woman, a perfectly beautiful woman, woven out of the brightest golden threads. Real emeralds were her eyes, rubies were her lips, amethysts her gown.

While she watched, the scene suddenly changed to show the same woman on a moonlit, fog-swirled moorland, alone, and without any of the gallant men that had earlier surrounded her. The girl dropped to tie a shoe, fainted, and was carried into a hovel by a large bear. As the two entered the hut, the woman's outer clothes melted away and the bear turned into a strong, dark young man.

Alethiel cried out. "It is I!" she breathed in wonder, "Oh, oh, it is _I_ that this wondrous tapestry is showing!" Now, the scenes changed again to show a swarm of livid, hideous creatures, woven in vivid browns and greens, attacking a little village. To Alethiel's surprise, the tapestry came even more alive. The girl could now hear the screams of terror of those besieged.

A particularly large demon-creature entered a modest little house situated by the river. Alethiel panted softly in her fear, for she knew that the house was her own. She saw a lone woman race from the house. She saw something hurtle through the air and strike the woman in the back. The woman fell…

"Stop!" Alethiel had risen from her seat at the table, and her beautiful face was white as alabaster with rage and terror. Her large eyes were dilated and glassy, and tears threatened to spill over their rims. The old man sighed deeply, waved his hand, and the tapestry again furled itself and rolled to a hidden place in the ceiling.

"I am so sorry, my dear girl, that you had to see this," he said. He got up and gently forced her to sit down. "But you must know _why_ you were not allowed to return to your home last night. I told you that your mother would worry about you no longer, and now…now you see why."

"Could you not have stopped it?"

"My dear young woman, I _am_ a wizard, yes, but I am not equal to that horde. It was sent out by a co-alliance of the two greatest sorcerers in the world. One, possibly I could have taken and defeated." The man sighed sadly, and suddenly looked very tired and aged. "But neither I nor my magic are what they used to be."

"Why can you not simply tell me who I am, and what I can do?" Alethiel burst out passionately. "I cannot sit here and watch those; those, those _things_ murder my family!"

"That is why you must go on your quest soon, Alethiel. This very week! If I simply told you, you would not have the experience needed to accomplish your role in life!'

"What role in life?"

"That also I cannot say as of yet. You will discover who were meant to be only when you discover who you are." The old man sat back in his chair. "But I can tell you this: it is beyond your wildest dreams."

Alethiel sighed sadly. "Then it must be." The wizard nodded, and then suddenly said, "You would do well to dry your eyes and eat, child. Your journey is long, and it starts within a few days."

He clapped his hands three times, and Makairn entered, bearing dishes filled with more wonderful and exotic foods. As he placed a plate in front of her, Alethiel said with a note of scorn in her voice, "So, this boy is a servant, my lord?" With an almost inexplicable satisfaction, she felt Makairn stiffen beside her. He did not look at her, but his strong hands balled into massive fists and his dark eyes stared at the wall before him as if he wished to set it ablaze—such was the intensity of his gaze.

"I am no servant, Lady, though I may not be as _fine_ as are you. I am the apprentice of Haradras, and I serve him to repay him for his kindness." Alethiel felt somewhat confused.

"Who is Haradras?" she asked. Makairn grinned playfully at her ignorance.

"Lady, the great man in whose house you slept, whose clothes you wore, at whose table you now eat, the man who is sitting now across from you, is the mighty Haradras." Alethiel's mouth dropped open.

"Forgive me, my lord, you did not tell me your name!" she whispered. Makairn laughed at her and playfully chucked her under the chin. Or at least, that was what he endeavored to do. Alethiel had had to be wary, being a beautiful peasant with no one to guard her honor. She had learned a thing or two with all of the young village men vying for her affections. As he moved towards her, a small silver knife flashed out of her belt and lightly nicked his hand.

She smiled smugly as Makairn drew back in surprise, clutching his wounded hand. Haradras smiled too, but warned Alethiel against the use of such rash behavior in the future. "There are those that would not be as gracious as Makairn," he said seriously. "They would try again, and they would succeed."



Later in the day, Haradras entered Alethiel's room. He walked quickly, as if worried, and clutched a small cloth sack. Shoving the latter into her arms, he whispered, "I had intended to wait for all of this at least a week. However, the enemy is moving so very rapidly, I dare not wait."

Alethiel looked down at the sack, saw that it contained bread and a skin of water, and clutched it to her chest. "What do you mean, my lord?" she said quietly.

"You saw the massacre of Down Bywynne on my tapestry." The girl nodded, and her lower lip almost imperceptibly trembled. "Quite soon, the demon horde will be on your trail. They were ordered not to leave even one Quieris alive." He leaned so close to her, Alethiel could smell the rich fragrance emanating from his robes. "I do not wish to frighten you, but it is _you_ that they are especially searching for." In response to her look of shock, the man shook his head sadly. "I cannot protect you against so many. My home is safe, yes, but that is only because I can make myself invisible with magic, as can Makairn. Alethiel—you I cannot shield. You must leave my house immediately and travel as quickly and as quietly as you can through the densest parts of the forest."

"But where do I go?" A sharp sense of foreboding was very quickly replacing Alethiel's sense of calm. Haradras gazed out of the hut, as if attempting to descry the enemy army advancing upon them even as they spoke.

"All will become clear to you as you journey on. You have a great destiny, Alethiel, a wonderful and powerful destiny. It shall not be revealed to you all at once, this much I know—it will all become clear to you in time. But now…" the wizard seemed to grow more and more agitated as he moved about the room, handing necessities to the young woman. "…Now…you must go. I tell you only this: travel as far from down Bywynne as you possibly can. If you are silent and travel quickly, it is possible that you may escape the enemy."

He walked to the mantelpiece and removed Luriel-Haranas from its hiding place. "I do not doubt that you are confused," he said. Crossing to where she stood, he put his hand under her chin and tilted her head up. The corners of his mouth turned up into a smile. "But I know that you will conquer. You shall find out who you were meant to be, and you shall thrive." He kissed her forehead, then released her. Taking her arm, he led her out of the door.

"Take care to stay out of sight, Alethiel," he warned as he opened the door. "Never, upon any account, leave the protection of the trees." Then, turning her to face him, he handed her a small packet. Opening it, Alethiel discovered the star of Luriel-Haranas tucked inside. She looked up at Haradras with a frown on her face. "Do you really want me to have this, my lord?" she asked. The old man closed her fingers over the gift and nodded his head. "Never, ever part with this jewel," he whispered. "It has more power than you realize."

Alethiel embraced the old man. "You have been so kind to me," she said, smiling. "Why? What have I ever done for you?" Haradras did not smile back, but looked out wistfully over the top of her head.

"I will tell you only that I once was asked for aid for a very great and noble cause, and I refused. As a result, the honorable personage who requested assistance was vanquished, and my own power was diminished. With you, I have made things right. Though you did not come to me for succor, I gave all that I had, and I will continue to exert what powers I have left until the end." As Alethiel watched, his face seemed to change. Lines seemed to disappear around his ancient face; the silver in his once-golden hair seemed to fade. He looked down at her, and finally returned her smile.

"I am at peace!"



so...what do you think? i would really love some feedback!


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Two

The Journey Begins

After wishing the kind Haradras farewell, Alethiel started out on her journey. Though only a day later than the last time that she had walked that path, the entire world seemed different to her now, after the stay in Haradras' house. The trees were darker and more sinister looking from the outside than from the window in her room. She thought of Makairn climbing so deftly, and wished that she could duplicate his skills.

As she turned the corner leading away from Down Bywynne, she hesitated, then turned back, crashing through paths that her own feet had made for thirteen years. "I must see if what I saw was true," she thought to herself. The old man's warning of _Keep to the trees_ was forgotten, and she trudged heedlessly through the underbrush.

As Alethiel neared her house, she felt something slip tightly around her waist, and the next thing she knew, that something was on top of her, wrestling her to the ground. She reached for her knife, but her captor's hand grasped her wrist and twisted it so that she had to let her dependable blade fall to the ground for pain.

She writhed in her captor's strong arms with the hope of being able to see whom it was that held her. As she struggled, she saw a knife pass in front of her face. The next thing that she knew, the cold steel was against her throat. The unknown pushed her, with a surprisingly gentle touch, to the ground and stood over her. As Alethiel lay there, a thought occurred to her. She pretended to swoon. The person above her grunted, stooped, and turned her over, examining her reddening wrist. She slitted her eyes open slightly so that he wouldn't know that she was awake.

To the great surprise of the maiden, the figure over her picked up her hand and began binding the wounded wrist. Alethiel could not see the person's face, for it was swathed in black fabric—however, she noticed that the hand touching her had a white bandage wrapped around it. Suddenly, she was seized with indignation. Making a quick grab for the knife that lay at her side, she thrust up and out, tearing the cloth from the unknown's face.

"Makairn!" Alethiel cried, shivering with rage. The boy stood, startled, and started to move back. Alethiel was too fast for him. She hooked her legs around his ankles as he stumbled back and he fell, his back hitting a rock as he went down.

Alethiel leaped to her feet and stood over him, her knife still held in front of her. She grinned wryly at him. "My, my, how the tables have turned. Why are _you_ here?"

Makairn sat up and rubbed his back. "Haradras sent me to protect you."

"Protect _me_? You needn't have troubled yourself. I am fine on my own!" Alethiel replied indignantly. She moved aside and allowed Makairn to stand, but she continued to cover him with her knife.

Makairn tore off the black shreds of fabric that remained around his face. "Seeing as how you have so soon forgotten his warning to 'keep to the trees', I doubt very much that you _would _have been alright. Haradras said that you were 'too young, too naïve, and too beautiful' to travel alone without a protector." Makairn winced, still rubbing his back. "And this is the thanks I get for it," he muttered. "A wounded hand and a sore back!"

Alethiel put her knife back in its sheath, favoring her wrist as she did so. "But you needn't have attacked me like that," she said angrily. "You frightened me half to death. Don't be vexed with me for struggling; how was I supposed to know who you were? Why were you wearing a mask, anyhow? I thought that you were going to slay me."

"Haradras thought that you might soon forget his warning to stay upon the path, so he asked me to frighten you into obedience. You can see now what might happen to a young woman in the woods, alone." The boy rubbed the bandage on his hand thoughtfully. "I suppose I should have removed this first!"

Suddenly, he turned upon Alethiel, a question in his ebony eyes. "Why _are_ you off the path anyway?" Makairn asked. As he talked, he walked toward the bush from behind which he had surprised her and pulled out blankets, food, and candles. Alethiel blushed.

"Why do you wish to know?" she asked. Makairn did not answer as he pulled a long black cloak from his bag of supplies and handed it to her.

"Put this on," he said simply.

Alethiel shook her head. "I am not at all cold, and whatever gives you the audacity to believe that you can…"

Makairn hoisted the supplies onto his broad back and strode towards her. She realized for the first time how tall he was as he stood there beside her. "Listen to me, Lady," he said quietly. "I do not _want_ to hurt you. But it is imperative that you obey me."

"But…"

"Your life- _our _lives depend upon it. And I will use whatever means necessary to make sure that we stay alive. Do I make myself clear?" Alethiel nodded meekly. There was so much to this boy that she did not understand, and now some that she even feared.

Makairn placed the cloak gently around her shoulders. "This is simply for concealment purposes," he said. "How far do you think that you would get with your bright hair all down your back like that?" Alethiel made no reply.

In spite of himself, Makairn couldn't help noticing how the black garment concealed her sunny auburn locks and fair white neck, and how it draped in perfect folds around her, as if in reverence to the beauty that it concealed. Almost without noticing it, his hand moved from her shoulder to her perfect neck.

Alethiel jumped at his touch and sprang away as if bitten, a wild look of terror coming into her eyes. His words _I do not want to hurt you_ reverberated in her mind as she backed away.

Makairn was blushing deeply as he looked at her. "I forgot myself, Lady," he whispered. "I was lost in the presence of such beauty. Forgive me, it will not happen again." So saying, he donned a cloak of the same color as Alethiel's and started off through the brush.

"Wait!" Makairn stopped and turned to look at Alethiel. The girl was not even aware that she had spoken. She stood leaning against a tree, her large sapphire-flecked-emerald eyes wide and glassy with desire and dread. "Wait," she repeated softly. Without another word, she had disappeared through the underbrush. Makairn uttered a growl of anger and darted after her.

He caught up with her soon enough. The edge of the dense forest was as far as she had intended to go in the first place. He grabbed her arm and tried to pull her away from where she stood, as if rooted to the ground by a spell of terrible power.

Alethiel was stronger than she looked, and would not let Makairn pull her away. Frustrated, he tried to lift her into his arms to bear her away bodily. "No," she whispered, a sob catching in her throat. The boy paused and turned to look where she was staring. A sigh escaped his lips.

A middle-aged Quieris woman lay face down on the ground, a gold-tipped arrow protruding from her back. Foul fumes came from the arrow, and Makairn was sorely tempted to cover his nose. He looked at Alethiel, and observed the crystalline tears splash down her cheeks with abandon.

Without warning, she shook herself from his grasp and stooped. Holding the woman in her arms, she rocked back and forth on her knees, the tears continuing to fall on the poor victim's silvered head. A low, steady moan broke from her lips, a sound that would have made even the hardest of hearts sore with the sound of it, and her slender form shook with wracking sobs. The woman's face was visible to Makairn over Alethiel's shoulder. It was a horrible sight to behold, one that he never forgot in all of his life.

Blood, in great profusion, flecked the woman's gaping mouth; her horror-stricken eyes stared ahead in glassy dread. In addition to this, the face that peered lividly at Makairn had an uncanny bluish tinge to it. The fated Quieris' limbs hung limply as Alethiel held her, and Makairn could see the maid shiver at the touch of the cold corpse-flesh.

At that moment, a horrible ghastly music filled the morning. Alethiel's head snapped up from its bowed position and Makairn moved to her side. The house of the maid and her unfortunate mother filled with an eerie light, and shapes began to appear, visible only in small parts by the window.

Horrid creatures were they, all naked, all dancing to some strange rhythm only they could know. Makairn felt Alethiel stiffen beside him. He put his hand on her shoulder; she shook him away. One of the grotesque beings wearing two writhing snakes on his head in imitation of a crown laughed as he pulled a portrait from the wall, a lovely canvas depicting Alethiel and her mother. He spat on it and ripped it open with his knife. Outside, Alethiel clenched her small fist.

Then, to her horror, he began to speak in a voice that whined and wheezed rheumatically, like an old man's. "What shall we do with the bodies, eh? Shall we leave good meat there to rot?" The loathsome beings shouted no, and their leader grinned, revealing pointed red teeth. "Alright then. We are all agreed. Let us begin to satisfy our stomachs with the Quieris outside on the path. Why look farther, eh?"

Alethiel uttered a sound scarcely human and rose, straddling her mother's body. "You will _die_ before you touch her!" she cried, her clear young voice echoing through the forest as she drew her knife. Horrified at her rash behavior, Makairn did not waste any time. Knowing that the girl would fight him, he leaned close and whispered something in her ear. She shook her head once, as if to try and clear away what ever she had heard, then dropped senseless into his waiting arms. Flipping her effortlessly over his strong shoulder, he turned once more to the poor woman on the path. In a quiet voice he murmured "_Asaris!"_ The body disappeared before his eyes.

Makairn and his burden disappeared into the forest moments before the naked creatures poured out of the house to eat their fill. He set Alethiel down inside the trunk of a burned out tree and sat in front of her, listening with satisfaction to the shrieking and cursing of the disappointed demons. Haradras was right. His time _had_ come.




	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Three

An Unforeseen Foe

Alethiel awoke in time to see Makairn returning from gathering logs for a small fire. As he set them down, he glanced over at her, then stood up straight. "You appear well rested, Lady," he said, smiling at her.

"I _feel_ dreadful," groaned Alethiel. The very blood flowing through her veins seemed to have turned to liquid flame, so great was her discomfort. In addition to the sprained wrist Makairn had so kindly granted her, every muscle in her body ached intensely, with a pain she had never known before. She tried to rise; fell, and tried again. Finally, clawing at the tree for support, she rose to her knees and crawled towards the campfire. As she leaned her weight upon her right wrist, however, the pain from her injury smote her like a burning brand of agony. Alethiel uttered a sharp cry of anguish, and Makairn started towards her.

"I suppose I did it too strong," he murmured mysteriously. Alethiel was instantly on the alert.

"Did what?" she asked, trying for the hundredth time (or so it seemed) to stand and walk over to Makairn. He sensed her frustration and lifted her into his arms.

"Thank you," she said, smiling at him. Then her expression changed and she looked at him almost fiercely. "What did you do to me?" Makairn set her down near to the heat of fire and rested himself by her side. Then, leaning close to her as if he was afraid of the trees hearing, he whispered, "I used my magic!"

Alethiel started in surprise. "How much have you learned from Haradras?" she asked.

"Only enough to make me slightly dangerous to those who do not expect weak magic," he replied. He was, in fact, being modest. He was one of the greatest magicians that the world had ever seen. Of course, Alethiel had no way of knowing this.

"Can you do practical magic, such as making food appear and the like, or only the rather dull sort?" Makairn studied her intently.

"I hope that you never have the need to find out." Alethiel imperiously narrowed her emerald eyes at him, eyes that sparked and shone in the firelight like the brightest of precious gems.

"What I meant by practical was simply this: can you heal my wrist?" In reply, the young man grinned self-confidently. He leaned close to her ear, so close that Alethiel could feel the breath from his mouth upon her cheek, and he laid his large, strong hand upon her injury. His touch was gentle, yet the maiden could feel the calluses upon his palms: calluses that spoke to her of years of manly labor. As he whispered into her ear words of the ancient Almeriors, words that were wild and wondrous in their primeval beauty, Alethiel felt the pain slowly melt away from her wrist, until she felt as if it had never been there at all.

Makairn moved away from her, slowly, almost regretfully it seemed. He let his hand remain for a moment longer upon her, and he gazed deep within her eyes. As the damsel forced herself to return his look, she once again felt ashamed before him: although not as before. When she had first met him, it was his _station_ that seemed to be the main difference between them but now…now the purity and the goodness of this young man, the self-sacrificing care, seemed to expose her petty self-centeredness in all of its hideous nakedness. _That it why he frightens me so_, Alethiel though to herself, as she finally had to lower her eyes. _I feel like he sees and knows all of my faults. All of me. I am utterly naked before him. _The maiden felt Makairn's continued gaze upon her.

"Please," she whispered, in a half-sob. He started and dropped her hand.

"What is it?" Alethiel hugged her knees tightly to her chest.

"I…I am cold." She felt, rather than saw, him rise, and she heard him clear his throat.

"No worries. The fire will soon be as warm as before, Lady," he said, as he began to stoke the fire. As he stooped, Alethiel studied his profile. He was very dark, with skin the color of golden-bronze and jaw-length black curls that shone like jet. His large eyes were as dark as a blackbird's wing, and they could be both kind enough to quiet the most ill-at-ease, and fierce enough to cow the proudest. His features were slightly larger than those of the Quieris people—larger and more masculine. All in all, Alethiel realized for the first time that he was strikingly handsome, and as she gazed upon his face, it seemed to the maiden that she gazed upon a true man for the first time in her life. Makairn looked up at her and met her gaze. She blushed and dropped her eyes to her lap. He continued to look intently at her.

Suddenly, Alethiel could bear his look no longer. "Makairn," she said, a little too loudly for the circumstances, "I think that I will go down to that little brook we saw flowing by the path." She rose to leave, realizing that the pain of Makairn's magic had already abated, and Makairn stood to accompany her. She raised her hand. "No, Makairn, you cannot come. I wish to bathe."

Makairn stood looking at her. "Alethiel, you must hurry," he said uncertainly. "I cannot protect you everywhere, I see that. But I would never forgive myself if something happened to you." Alethiel nodded, then ran from his dark, inquisitive eyes.

When she reached the water's edge she removed her shoes and let her feet dangle in the cold, crisp water. What was it about Makairn that worried her? She wondered. He was so good, so kind, so extraordinarily handsome…but she sensed that he wanted more of her than she was willing to give. But what? What could he possibly wish from her? The young woman ran her fingers through her long hair pensively. She had no interest in affairs of the heart, that was for sure—was that what she believed Makairn wished?

Alethiel brushed these thoughts from her mind and stood, stripping her self to her bare skin. She hid herself beneath the giant black cloak that Makairn had given her, then flung it off at the last possible moment before she dove in.

The young woman was an excellent swimmer, being taught by her closest friend, her mother Wilonwyn. Alethiel had never had friends her age of the same sex. She finally realized that a strong jealousy of her great beauty had driven the young Quieris girls to avoid her.

Her mother had been everything in her life. She had seen her father only in a portrait that her mother kept of him around her neck. He had never come to visit the girl and his wife. Alethiel had idolized him from afar; hoping and dreaming that one day she would see him come down the path to her home, where the long-overdue meeting between parent and child would ensue.

She had been made supremely happy in relation to her father the day before, just before she left for the Sillion Festival. Her mother had approached her, tears glistening in her eyes. Wordlessly, she had held out an amethyst-hued dancing gown to the maiden. Golden threads were woven throughout the long, full skirt, and around the gently sloping neckline that would leave bare the maiden's snowy shoulders. "This was given to me by your father, Alethiel," she had murmured, an undercurrent of fierce love trembling in her voice. "It would honor him—and me—if you would wear it tonight!" The girl had complied with joy, for it seemed to her as if finally, she had tangible evidence of her father's love.

The only time that Alethiel had ever gotten physically violent with one of the young women of the Quieris tribe was on the subject of her beloved parents. After watching one of Alethiel's many admirers pay his suit to her, a jealous girl had sidled up to her rival and whispered, "I hope that you do not turn out like your mother, Dearest Alethiel. A child and no husband…"

The spiteful minx had never finished. Alethiel had struck out, hitting the girl with such force that the breath was knocked out of her and the blood poured from her lip. She really could not excuse the next part of her behavior. She had jumped on her felled foe and had begun to grind the dirt from the ground into her face.

"If you ever _dare_ to speak about my parents again, if their names ever slide from your filthy, insignificant little worm's lips again, I'll…I'll," here Alethiel had stopped, jumped off the girl and fled, tears in her eyes. She knew perfectly well that part of what the girl had said was true. Filliac Fornwyn was her father, yes…but her mother had no husband.

Wilonwyn had associated with very few others in Down Bywynne, and while she allowed her daughter to befriend whomever she wished, she herself kept mainly to the cabin. She had entrusted one woman of the village with the knowledge that she had not a husband…and by the very next day all of Down Bywynne knew it as well. Wilonwyn was a sensitive woman by nature, and it came to pass that as she could not bear the insults of those who accused her, she rarely left her home again.Alethiel stepped out of the water, shivering even in the afternoon sun. Her mother seemed eager to defend her father, but Alethiel knew that deep down inside her mother grudged him for his injustice.

The young girl drew her clothes on over her slender white body, pausing as she pulled the forest-hued tunic on over her head. Why her mother had not married again, while she was still at the height of her youth and beauty, she would never know.

"Alethiel!"

The girl turned, aggravated at Makairn for interrupting her so soon. "Could you not give me a few…?" She stopped suddenly, for it was not Makairn that stood before her. "Ferac!" she cried, jumping up and throwing her arms around the neck of her old friend.

Ferac was a young Quieris man, the same age as Makairn, but very different in appearance. He was handsome, but in a fair, almost feminine way. His long golden-brown hair fell to his cheekbones in a tumbling riot of curls, and his fair skin complemented his dark eyes to perfection. He was wiry rather than muscular, and skilled in every art of warfare known upon Korant. He had long admired Alethiel, like every boy and man that had ever laid eyes on her. Alethiel knew this, but she treasured the presence of Ferac as that of an old friend. It was he who had taught Alethiel the art of fencing, and how to dodge and duck the enemy's unsuspected blows whilst jabbing at them with her own sword.

"My dear friend," she said releasing him, "Where have you come from? Was not our entire village laid to waste?" Ferac sighed.

"It is only too true, Alethiel," he said dejectedly, sitting on the turf. The girl sat beside him. Strange, she seemed to remember his eyes being blue. Now they were as dark as those of Makairn…

"All of us who were able to lift a weapon tried to fight them off. But we were no match for that demon horde. They slaughtered all there. I alone escaped, and came to find you. I heard that you did not return after the Festival of Fonn. Where did you go?"

Alethiel stood and paced. Was it really only a day ago that she had been living the life of a peasant girl? Yes, yes, it was one day exactly, and yet worlds ago. As she strode along the length of the riverbank, she reached for the packet in her pocket that contained the necklace. What was all the fuss about that beautiful trinket anyhow? It _was_ only a necklace…was it not?

Ferac was suddenly beside her. "You grow lovelier every day, Alethiel," he murmured. He tried to catch her hand, the one that was near her pocket. She pulled away.

"Ferac, I have told you time and time again that I do not like you to behave so," she said. She was not at all frightened yet, only surprised. Ferac had always been such a gentleman. Suddenly he grabbed her close, his strong arms tightening around her waist.

"I tell you again Alethiel, I love you!" A strange gleam came into his peculiar eyes. "You are _mine_ now. There is no one in this whole wood who can come to your aid!"

Alethiel was truly frightened now. Ferac threw her to the ground. As she lay there, staring up at him in horror, he changed before her eyes. No longer was he the Quieris boy she had grown to love and treasure as a brother. He was a creature identical to those she had seen in her house! Oh, if only she could send a signal to Makairn…

She was so horrified at first; she did not pay attention to what the creature was hissing. Now, as she listened, she grew prostrate with despair.

"Any of My Lady's number could have got the other by now," it hissed. It exhaled then, its voice coming out in a dry crackle. "But _I,_ I have gotten the prize for her that she so wishes. Alone! By myself! She will reward _me_!" The demon creature leered at the maiden below it. "I shall take you to my Mistress now," it rasped, "but only after I take the precious gem she warned me that you would carry!"

The creature suddenly threw himself on Alethiel, grabbing at her pocket. She grabbed for her knife, stabbed frantically, and cut a long streak down the demon's forearm. It would not stop reaching for her pocket. The damsel cried out in pain and the tears started to her eyes as the beast-like creature caught her long tresses in one of his large hands and pulled ferociously at it, while with the other he grasped her arm with such intensity and strength she feared it would break. In a desperation borne of pain and fear, Alethiel jabbed up with her knees and the creature rolled off, gasping and clutching its side. That gave the young woman the time she needed._ It has more power than you realize,_ echoed in her mind as she fastened the necklace around her neck.

The creature was standing again. It grabbed Alethiel's arm-then dropped it again, howling. Alethiel stared at it for a moment, not comprehending what the matter was. Then, she came to her senses and grabbed a large tree branch that lay near her feet. Just as the demon lunged at her, she swung it, and it cracked the creature's skull. It sank motionless to the ground.

Alethiel heard a noise behind her and whirled around, the branch still in her hand. Makairn bounded through the clearing looking for all the world like a hunted animal. He grabbed her hand as he passed, then dropped it again, clutching his own as his face twisted in pain. Alethiel looked at him, with an indignant expression on her face. "What are you doing?" she cried.

"Take off the necklace!" he commanded harshly. She obeyed, but reluctantly. "Put it away, quickly!" he whispered urgently. Alethiel did, not without glaring at him.

"I would very much appreciate it if you would explain to me the meaning of your rather rude behavior," she began, but he interrupted her again, grasping her arm and pulling her along as soon as the necklace was out of sight.

"I will explain everything to you once we reach a safe distance from this thing," he said, nodding at the dead creature on the ground. Then, as if to himself, he murmured, "Like hornets they are, attracting all their kind to their corpse, to avenge them."

As they passed, Alethiel looked over her shoulder, and saw to her horror that the demon had changed back into the form of Ferac. He lay on the ground, his dark eyes staring at the sky with an almost mournful expression. The girl turned her head sorrowfully. She had done what she had to do. She did not wish to see more.



As the murky phantoms of twilight drew on, Makairn released his tight grip on Alethiel's arm and sat down to rest. The girl lay down and did likewise, panting from their long run. It seemed to both of the weary travelers that they had run without stopping for hours on end.

Alethiel rose and walked to the edge of a stream that ran along the ground near where they lay. As she dipped her whole face in to cool it, Makairn started up. "That brute cut you!" he exclaimed in surprise. Alethiel suddenly noticed that she was still covered in the creature's blood.

"I stabbed him myself, and he covered me with his own filthy blood," she said slowly, almost sadly. The dead face of her old friend came back to haunt her. Then, with an attempt at joviality, she laughed, "Much good my bath did me, eh?" Makairn did not smile as he sat beside her.

"It was against my better judgment to let you go off alone, yet I did not think that the enemy was so close as of yet. I thought I saw something—someone—skulking through the trees, and I determined to go to you, no matter what state you were in." He stood and sighed, looking at her. "Do you know who it was that attacked you?" he asked. Alethiel frowned.

"That is what puzzles me. I thought that it was my dearest friend, Ferac, and at first he was. Then, he changed into…oh, how I hate to think of it!" Alethiel hid her face in her hands and let the tears fall from her eyes. Makairn let her weep for a few moments, then asked her what seemed like a very strange question.

"What color were Ferac's eyes?"

Alethiel lifted her face from her hands and stared at him. "What do mean?" she asked. Makairn was looking at her intently. "What color were his eyes?" he repeated.

Alethiel rested her head on her knee and sighed. "I think they were blue. No, no, they were brown. Or were they…" she stopped and looked closely at Makairn. "That's the strange part," she said slowly. "I think that they _were_ blue, but when he-changed-they were brown."

Makairn nodded, as if this was what he had been expecting all along. "That is the mark of a Feigh, the dark eyes. No Quieris has eyes of that hue, or any other kind of people in this land. If you ever see any one that you have known before with eyes that have changed from light to dark, then know that they are truly dead. Their lifeless body has been inhabited by the sprit of a demon Feigh, and the only mark of this change that they cannot cover is their accursed eyes!"

Makairn rose with a scowl and paced, sure to keep his charge in his sight. Alethiel watched him intently, then suddenly gave voice to the thought that had troubled her since his passionate speech.

"Makairn…_your_ eyes are dark!"

He winced, but continued pacing without even looking at her. Alethiel sighed and tried again.

"If what you say is true, then how can you explain away _your_ dark eyes?"

"I cannot explain them away," Makairn said gruffly. "I told you before when you asked my name that it was _given _me. None know my true name, and I do not want it known. I know only _what_ I am, not _who _I am. I am Feigh."

"But Haradras…"

"…Rescued me from my people when I was but an infant. He cared for me as a father and I lived with him in the manner of a son until my thirteenth year." Makairn stopped pacing and wiped the sweat from his brow. It was obvious to the maiden that the recitation of this tale was painful for him. "I never had comrades among the children of the Quieris; they all feared me once they learned I was Feigh. I seldom ever even left the home of Haradras."

"And when you were thirteen?" Alethiel asked softly. Makairn sat beside her and absent-mindedly pulled tufts of grass from the turf beneath him.

"At that time, he gave me a choice: I could leave his household and make my own way in the world; learn another craft if I would…or stay with him and learn wizardry. I chose the latter and lived with him as his apprentice until recently."

"You are no longer his apprentice, then?"

"The night I met you I received my deed to wizardry, recognizing my efforts as those of a mature magician. I can do greater things now even than Haradras, for my youth and strength add much to my wisdom—these two things are, regrettably, are those which Haradras no longer can posses." The young woman looked puzzled.

"But, Makairn, you may be a member of the nobility of your people! Do you not wish to know?" With a sudden energy that frightened her, the young man grasped her shoulders.

"Never! Never! I do not want you _ever_ to suggest such a thing to me again! Alethiel, my people are evil and cruel…this much you know. What you have not heard is this: every Quieris is viewed among the Feigh as worse than filth. The greatest pride of a Feigh-noble is the collection of severed heads and flameless stars of his vanquished enemies that he possesses. If I were to recognize myself as one of _them_ that would make me a traitor to my chosen people…" his voice grew softer, and he released her shoulders "… and a traitor to all that I love."

Alethiel shifted uncomfortably, and unconsciously touched the pocket in her jerkin that contained the star of Luriel-Haranas. "Though I am Quieris, I have not been kind to you—everything I have said to you has been an insult. You must wish with all your heart to make me suffer. Then why do you protect me?" she whispered. Suddenly, a light seemed to dawn in her mind and she leapt hastily from her seat. "Or _do_ you protect me?" she asked, slowly backing away. "How can I be sure that you do not also serve the Dark Ferienne, and are leading me to her? How can I know your humility and loyalty to my people is not simply a charade?"

Makairn looked at her sorrowfully as he answered. "Do you think, Alethiel, that if I was leading you to your destruction, you would still be possessed of that brilliant gem which you take so for granted? Do you think that I would still treat you as my equal, my mistress even, when you were in reality only my prisoner? Do you think that I would have so long allowed you to treat me as your servant? No, Alethiel. If you were truly my prisoner, you would now bend before my will like a branch in the breeze." Makairn slowly walked towards her, and she backed away from him. Ever so gently, he laid his hand on her shoulder. "But you have nothing to fear," he whispered. "Not from me, nor from anyone else while I am by your side. If you need proof of this…" the young man gently took her wounded arm in his large hands, and murmured softly over it. All in a moment, the maiden felt the pain and swelling leave her, as if a great weight had been suddenly lifted away. Alethiel was suddenly ashamed before Makairn.

"Yes," she whispered quietly. "Yes. I see now that I was wrong to doubt you. You have only been good and kind to me since the moment we met." Once more, she lay down trustingly upon the turf.




	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Four

The Desire of the Wizard

Clouds covered the silvern moon when Makairn woke that evening. He was not sure what had awakened him, until he saw that Alethiel's place was vacated. He leapt to his feet and was just about to call out her name, when the moon appeared again.

The glistening rays focused on a lone figure standing on a grassy knoll not far from him. He saw that it was Alethiel, but something in her posture prevented him from calling out to her. She stood, matchlessly beautiful face bowed, white hands clasped at her breast. A muffled sob escaped her lips, and as he watched, she fell to her knees and slowly rocked back and forth as if in bitter anguish. To his surprise, she started softly to sing.

"Mulia_, morasen nonye,_

_ Can soven nanya_

_Lu, besno asaris_

_ Ulienne misca lana_

_ Cheresana cusneyen!"_

The song still sent shivers down Makairn's back; it had ever since he had first heard the girl sing it. He had been the reason that Alethiel was taken to Haradras in the first place…

The evening before, he had been going about his chores when the old man had swept majestically into the room. "Makairn," he had said quietly. The boy had bowed to his master. "I wish you to do me a service."

"Anything, my lord."

"In scarcely ten minutes a young woman will cross the path in front of this house." Makairn had nodded. "I wish you to cast her into a deep sleep, then bring her in and lay her on the bed in the Old Room. You will find that her clothes disappear as she enters into the house, for, as you very well know," the old man had shuddered with rage, "nothing that has been touched by the hand of Filiac Fornwyn can enter my house." Makairn had bowed.

"As you say my lord," he had replied, then exited the room. He knew how to do the sleep spell, but he was not sure what else to do. He knew that occasionally a person could withstand the spell if strong enough, so he had decided to make fast her limbs to the ground, then appear in the shape of a great black bear as well. Girls were likely to faint when they saw a frightening creature such as a bear, he reasoned.

Just as he was about to leave the house, Haradras had appeared before him noiselessly. He put his hand on his shoulder. "You have served me well, lad," he had whispered, "and you have learned much. Complete this last task and your powers will be complete." Makairn had stared at the old man at first, only half comprehending what he had said. Haradras had handed him a piece of paper, something that Makairn had desired ever since he had begun his service with the old man.

Even though Makairn knew exactly what it was, the man said softly, "This is your Deed to Wizardry. Carry this with you, and you will be recognized as a mature magician wherever you go. Your time has come!" Haradras had disappeared before Makairn's eyes as he said the last words, and the boy was left greedily clutching the coveted piece of paper.

He had gone outside and waited around the corner of the house, making sure that he would be out of sight of any traveler on the road. As he waited he mused to himself, "I now have every power that Haradras has! I am as wise as he…" then he stopped. Except for the mist. He could never quite get the hang of making mist appear on the moorlands of Down Bywynne, though he had practiced many times.

Just to be sure that the old wizard had not made a mistake, he quietly whispered "_Morcas sonamat, miolea morestant!" _to his surprise and exultation, a thick fog began to shroud the dense woods around the house of Haradras.

He had no time to gloat over his success, however, for the girl was coming down the path. She had a hood over her face, but he could glimpse copper-colored curls that peeked from beneath their cover. Suddenly, she flung back the hood, and her face was revealed in all of its radiant beauty. Makairn had gasped in surprise. Never had he seen such perfect, unblemished loveliness in all of his life. Though many of Haradras' acquaintances were women of exceptional and breathtaking comeliness, Makairn felt that he had never before looked on beauty as he had gazed wonderingly on the living incarnation of the word.

Starting from his stupor, he barely had time to spin the spells into effect. Making the laces of girl's delicate dancing slippers come undone, he waited till she had bent down, then had emerged from around the house as a great black bear. She had cried out in terror, and he lifted her lithe young body into his arms.

He modestly looked away as her clothes did indeed melt from her, then covered her shivering body with a thick blanket. He then turned and left the room, his own body tensed and hard with desire.

He gave the spell a few moments to work out of her system, then reappeared just as she woke. When she found that she was wearing only her shift, she was understandably quite angry. Makairn had tried to soothe her ruffled feelings, but couldn't help smiling to himself. She looked even lovelier when she was upset!

Their relationship had grown even stormier the next morning, when she had called him a mere servant. He could have thought of nothing that vexed him more that to be called a "servant" by this lovely creature! After she had left the house of Haradras, the old wizard himself had appeared to the boy.

"Makairn," he had said, "You now have absolutely everything that you need to be a magician on your own. I suggest that you leave and prepare your own way in the world. This house is not large enough for two magicians." The old man was silent, and both he and the boy beside him knew that he thought of Filliac Fornwyn. Then Haradras shook himself and continued, "But I have one last command: follow the girl Alethiel, and protect her on her journey."

Makairn frowned. "I know not where she goes, lord."

Haradras nodded. "Neither does she. But she will in time. What she has yet to learn is that two people, a man and a woman, are needed to complete the journey."

"Why, my lord?"

"It was designed that way by Another, The Greatest One, long before my time," the wise old man replied cryptically. Then suddenly, his clear blue eyes grew very earnest and he leaned close to Makairn. "It has _always_ been, and it will always be the same. Teach her, Makairn!" The boy had resolved to try.

So as he lay watching the girl, fighting a battle against the misery that attempted to consume her, the words of his former master came back to haunt him. For whatever strange journey they had to complete, only one thing was certain: they had to do it together.




	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Five

The Lord of Orgoz

Alethiel awoke the next morning where she had fallen. At first, she thought that she was in her own room, snug and safe in the little cottage in Down Bywynne. However, as the events of the previous days crowded themselves back into her fevered mind, she smothered a groan of anguish.

Even that small noise was enough to have Makairn on his feet, sword drawn and at the ready. "What is it? What did you see?" he asked her anxiously, if not sleepily. She smiled.

"Everything is alright," she laughed, pulling herself to her feet. Then, she suddenly placed her slim hands on her snowy temples and groaned. "But, oh, I am _so_ weary!"

Makairn approached her. She did not flinch or writhe away, but impassively allowed him to place his arms about her shoulders. Makairn felt as though the entire world had been given him with this one touch. Though he longed to kiss her soft and supple young lips, he dared not hope for the sun and the stars as well.

Suddenly, a hunting horn was heard near at hand. Makairn released his grip on Alethiel and turned, sword in hand. Alethiel turned and peered through the trees behind them, then gasped. In a small clearing not five leagues from where they stood, a hunting party was proceeding grandly through the field.

"We should take cover," warned Makairn. "Even I cannot tell who they are…" He stopped suddenly and whirled around. Alethiel was nowhere in sight!

"Alethiel!" Makairn cried in a loud whisper, "Alethiel, where _are_ you?" _What has the foolish girl done now?_ he wondered as he tried to forge his way through the thick underbrush without making much noise.

Alethiel did not hear him call her; she was too far away. She crouched near the very edge of the clearing, watching the scene. The great beauty of the lord's clothing had made her gasp, and the child that lingered within her had made her desire to see the brilliantly bedecked party closer at hand. Silently, she left Makairn's side and crept stealthily through the woods

When she neared the forest edging, she curled up behind a bush, just out of sight. She gazed admiringly on the handsome men dressed in dark hunter green. Horses of amazing beauty were being ridden by tall, majestic looking men, bearing hunting falcons on their wrists.

As she watched, an incomparably large and beautiful horse was driven through the party. The masked rider removed his hood…

"Father!" All heads turned as Alethiel crashed toward them through the underbrush. The regal rider dismounted, and caught the girl as she fell into his strong arms. "Alethiel!" he murmured as he embraced her quivering body, "My own daughter…can it be?"

It was indeed Filliac Fornwyn, father of Alethiel. The girl had recognized him at once, for not even she could remember how often and earnestly she had longingly gazed at the haughty, handsome face within her mother's locket.

Fornwyn held his daughter at arm's length, looking closely at her face for the first time. His eyes bulged in wonder; his jaw dropped. "Can it be?" he said slowly, as if thinking out loud, "Can it be that _you_ are really my daughter?" Alethiel's color rose and she embraced him warmly.

"Yes, it is true!" she murmured simply. Then, she drew back, and her large eyes grew suddenly accusing. "Why did you leave us? For, oh, ever so long Mother has been…"

"Alethiel!" Heads turned again to stare at a second figure racing through the brush the way the first had come. Makairn raced up to the girl, panting in exhaustion. "Why did you leave? How many times have I told you—?"

"And who is your charming companion, Dear? His manners are very fine to address such a beautiful lady so, do you not think gentlemen?" The gentlemen in the party of Filliac Fornwyn laughed, and Makairn's face turned scarlet. Suddenly feeling pity for him, Alethiel gently broke from her father's grasp.

"Dearest Father, this is my companion, Makairn. He has protected me on my journey," Alethiel walked over to Makairn and put her hand on his arm. She could feel that the ample muscles beneath his cloak were tensed and at the ready. She smiled at him and whispered, "Makairn, this is my Father!"

"I know who he is." Makairn's short reply startled Alethiel.

"He is wonderful, Makairn," she said, gently pulling at his arm. "I am sure that if…"

The look he gave her was one of such intense anger that she drew back, and returned to her father's side. "Father, Makairn has been my guide and protector throughout my journey so far." Fornwyn looked at his daughter with increasing interest.

"What is this journey that you keep referring to?" he asked. Alethiel looked puzzled.

"Truly, I do not understand it, Father," she said slowly. "It was _given_ me. I think that I am to find myself…or something like that. I…" Alethiel stopped and laughed, a strange, high and tittery laugh that made Makairn tremble. "Oh, isn't that _odd_? I don't remember any longer. I just suppose I thought that everyone was given a journey!"

Fornwyn laughed, a deep and hearty laugh that seemed to make even the ancient woods about them tremble. He lightly lifted his daughter and swung her onto his horse. "Ride that noble beast, Alethiel," he said, smiling at the look of panic that drifted for a fleeting moment across her perfect face. "He shall not harm you. He is a gentle as he is massive." Fornwyn then turned to Makairn. "You may accompany us, lad, if you wish." Makairn nodded, and stepped to the great beast's side.

"Where do we go, Father?" Alethiel asked as the horse started to move beneath her.

"To my castle, dearest." Then turning to his men, he shouted, "To Orgoz!" Makairn's face darkened as he heard the name of the lord's castle, and the men cheered as they turned their weary footsteps toward home.

Makairn looked at Alethiel as she rode that noble and beautiful horse, her long auburn curls swaying in the breeze about her incomparable face. He fixed that image in his mind as something to dwell on during the perilous times ahead. He knew what she did not in her naiveté: they were headed towards their Destruction.



Orgoz was a large, imposing castle of black granite that loomed high above the country's low mountains, and resembled a large thunderhead. Makairn saw Alethiel tremble as she gazed upon it.

Filliac Fornwyn helped his daughter alight; then led her into the castle. Makairn followed close behind, and observed that every one within the fortress, from the highest noble to the lowest servant, ceased their work to gape openly at the new arrival.

Fornwyn introduced the girl to all of the great people in the castle, and assigned her to a legion of maidservants to care for her. Makairn could not help noting that even in her travel worn state; Alethiel surpassed the other beautifully dressed women a thousand-fold.  
That evening preparing for dinner was one of the most tedious that Alethiel ever had spent. She had been accustomed to dress her own hair and clothe herself; having servants do this for her was something new indeed. After a bath that nearly boiled her, she was perfumed and clothed for dinner, and her beautiful, long hair was arranged partly on top of her head, and partly trailing down her back.

After their work was completed, the maids seemed astonished at what their skillful hands had created. They kept walking around and around Alethiel, examining her from every angle until she blushed in embarrassment. She was just opening her mouth to ask them to please stop, when the head maid snapped her fingers suddenly, and they disappeared through a door in the wall.

Alethiel turned to see why, and nearly gasped in surprise. Makairn stood in the entrance to the room, garbed in fine velvet and brocade. He looked so very noble and handsome that Alethiel stood to welcome him.

As she stood, the flowing blood-red velvet dress she wore fell around her, the deep color of the material setting off her fair coloring to perfection. Makairn stood as if transfixed, unable to believe his eyes.

The dress was embroidered all over with silver stars, which gleamed as Alethiel moved; her long hair, trailing down her back nearly to her ankles, caught the light and gleamed as well. She blushed, down to her partially exposed chest, as he stared at her. "Will you not come in and be seated?" she asked awkwardly, motioning to a chair near her bed.

Makairn strode into the room, then turned and locked the door behind him. Alethiel's eyes widened and she fidgeted with the soft material of her dress. "What is wrong, Makairn?" she asked quietly. "You have not seemed well since we met my father!"

Makairn sat down heavily in the mahogany chair. "You should not have come. You do not belong here, Alethiel!" The girl looked at him indignantly.

"I suppose that I have as much right as any one else to be in the house of my own father! I…" Makairn pulled a large silver mirror off of her dressing table and held it before her eyes.

"What do you see?" he asked suddenly. She gaped at him; he gently turned her chin so that she gazed into the mirror.

"I see myself," Alethiel said crossly. "But Makairn, that has nothing…"

"In what way do you resemble your father?" The girl thought a moment.

"I have his eyes, perhaps…"

"Yours are green as the purest emerald, his are black as ebony!" Makairn's voice sounded afraid, desperate.

Alethiel looked closely at the mirror. "Well then, I have his coloring."

"You are fair, Alethiel, fair as the snows, and he is as dark as the night!" Makairn dropped the polished glass and grasped her bare shoulders. "Oh, how can I make you see? I think that you are under Forwyn's spell. You know as well as I that you are fair and he is dark…"

"Is he dark?" murmured Alethiel strangely. She pushed away from Makairn, and he let her fall back upon the bed. "Oh, is he dark, Makairn? I had not noticed."

Makairn groaned. "You _are_ under his spell! What can I do?"

Alethiel stood and straightened her dress. "I am under no spell, Makairn. I feel better than I have for days. I think that…" She realized with a start that Makairn was staring intently at her chest. She tried to back away, but he grabbed her and uttered an eerie, strangled cry.

"Makairn, what is the matter with you?" she cried, trying desperately now to free herself.

"You are wearing the star of Luriel-Haranas around your neck, yet I am not burned!" he cried. Alethiel looked puzzled.

"Now that you mention it, I would very much appreciate it if you explained to me the meaning of your strange behavior yesterday, when you told me so rudely to 'Take off the necklace!'. There seems to be such a great deal of mystery surrounding this gem!" Makairn wiped a hand across his brow and sat again.

"The necklace around your neck belonged to Quierun-Ieris, the ancient queen of the Almeriors. Haradras told you that much at least. What you do not know is this: it was foretold by a great wizard years before your birth, that a poor daughter of Feigh parentage would be the hidden descendant of Quierun-Ieris the Dawn, through certain mystical properties that no one would understand, and that the child would possess all of her great power. It would remain dormant for a time, as the unknown child grew to perfection, then, once she had reached adulthood, her magnificent powers would be revealed for all Korant to see!"

Alethiel's breath came in short gasps as she listened. For a strange reason that she could not understand, the telling of the story hurt her in some way. Her mind burned with a fierce pain as the young Feigh-man attempted to relate the tale to her. She felt as though she wanted to hear what Makairn was telling her, but the ideas that he was trying to communicate to her were muddled and unclear in her head.

Makairn watched her intently as he spoke; he seemed desperate to communicate the importance of this tale to her. "Alethiel, _you _are the hidden descendant, _you_ are the heir of Quierun-Ieris' power. That is why it is so imperative for you to protect yourself from all Feigh. You see," Makairn leaned close to her and looked both ways as if terrified that someone would hear him, "The necklace that you wear has extraordinary power. It was foretold by the same magician that when the Star came into the possession of the Hidden Descendant of Quierun-Ieris, it would take on strange and inexplicable properties. When ever she—you—touch it to your bare skin, your body becomes like fire to whoever has the misfortune to touch you!"

Alethiel gently touched the necklace hanging around her neck. "Then why…"

"Why did you not burn me just now? That is exactly what I am trying to make you see!" Makairn looked at her with a mixture of anger and fear in his eyes. "Because you insisted on accompanying your father to his castle, this accursed tower of Orgoz, his spells have made much of your power leave you!"

The girl shook her head as if trying to clear cobwebs from her mind. Makairn sighed sadly. "You are still resisting me, though perhaps it is not your own doing." He rose, and took Alethiel's arm. "Come; let us go down to dinner before they send a servant to search for us." As Alethiel stood, the boy leaned close to her and whispered, "Never mention the name of Haradras to your father!" She nodded her head, but frowned as if she did not understand. The young wizard tenderly reached behind her and unfastened the brilliant Star from about her slender neck. "Guard it carefully, Alethiel," he murmured. "The less that your father sees of this gem the better!" The young woman did not protest; she took the medallion and slipped in into a hidden pocket in her chemise.

Before he unlocked the door, Makairn stopped and looked earnestly into Alethiel's eyes once more. "I shall try to protect you whenever and wherever I can, and I shall not cease to try to release you from the spell which so entangles you now!"

_The Ruins of Orgoz_


End file.
